It was the second day of school for me as a kindergarten. Terrified, I resented getting up from bed that day, unhappy that I will be separated from my parents for a couple of hours. The first day of school was scary as well since I’ve never seen so many kids will loud developing personalities and very energetic movements. That day, our parents could come into our class and learn about the teacher and how the classroom was operated. I didn’t mind the kids, since I was with parents. I was very timid and kept to myself when we went inside the classroom. The classroom had toys sprawled around a corner, which I assumed was the play area, and very colorful decorative wallpaper. The bright colors hurt my eyes and instantly, I wanted to go home. I
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She was sitting at her vanity, applying her makeup, and with her big red lips, she smiled and picked out my clothes to wear. Next, she had to brush my hair, which I dreaded to let her do. She would always grip my soft hair too tight and brush my hair harshly and even brushing my forehead. I stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, waiting for my mother to do my hair. Once she came in, she brushed my hair and styled it into high pigtails, tied with brightly colored scrunchies. I grudgingly walk to the kitchen to grab my backpack, already tired of the idea of school and wanting to get over it. My mom stopped me, with a puzzled face, asking me if I had breakfast. I shrugged and said nothing—until she broke the silence. She reminded me that I had to eat breakfast, since it is the most important meal of the day. I stood there with a dull face, I never liked breakfast and still don’t since I don’t get that hungry in the morning and end up feeling sick if I do have breakfast. My mom prepared me a bowl of cereal, which lightened up my mood since it was my favorite type of cereal. I sat at the dining table and my mom placed it in front of me. The smell of the sweet corn flakes soaking into the cold milk filled my nose and I digged into the
She was sitting at her vanity, applying her makeup, and with her big red lips, she smiled and picked out my clothes to wear. Next, she had to brush my hair, which I dreaded to let her do. She would always grip my soft hair too tight and brush my hair harshly and even brushing my forehead. I stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, waiting for my mother to do my hair. Once she came in, she brushed my hair and styled it into high pigtails, tied with brightly colored scrunchies. I grudgingly walk to the kitchen to grab my backpack, already tired of the idea of school and wanting to get over it. My mom stopped me, with a puzzled face, asking me if I had breakfast. I shrugged and said nothing—until she broke the silence. She reminded me that I had to eat breakfast, since it is the most important meal of the day. I stood there with a dull face, I never liked breakfast and still don’t since I don’t get that hungry in the morning and end up feeling sick if I do have breakfast. My mom prepared me a bowl of cereal, which lightened up my mood since it was my favorite type of cereal. I sat at the dining table and my mom placed it in front of me. The smell of the sweet corn flakes soaking into the cold milk filled my nose and I digged into the